" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. “But, forgive me, you are tired. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. " "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. ‘You would know more of me?’ ‘I would know everything about you,’ Gerald told her, his tone at once provocative and inviting. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket.
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